


Strength

by AtropaAzraelle (Polyoxyethylene)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Baby Ignis, Bullying, Clarus in dad mode, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 17:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12964149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/AtropaAzraelle
Summary: The skinned knees and loose button were a sure sign that someone had been picking on the Prince's future hand.Clarus offers some words of advice.





	Strength

**Author's Note:**

> And so we begin Ignis Fluff Week. Some of these will be posted late due to timezone clashes and work commitments, but by golly they're coming.

Being the chief bodyguard of a ruling monarch gave you a certain awareness of your surroundings. You had to notice things that were out of place. You had to see danger before it became obvious it was danger, and a lot of the time that meant noticing things that weren't dangerous, but were definitely off.

The wrong kind of handshake, or way of counting on the fingers. The wrong way of wearing a tie, or lacing a boot. Someone being somewhere they shouldn't be.

There was no reason to suspect danger from the small child huddled under a table trying not to be seen, but it definitely stood out as one of those odd things a good Shield should notice quickly.

Clarus approached the table and crouched. The kid couldn't be more than four or five, a little younger than Gladiolus, who was more likely to be found up a tree than under a table, and lighter in colouring. Gladiolus had his mother's eyes, a honeyed amber that Clarus knew was going to net the adorable little shit a lot of female admirers once he was old enough. It netted him a lot of coos and fussing over by women right now, although Gladiolus wasn't old enough to appreciate it yet.

The eyes that stared out at Clarus from under the table were green, and wide, framed by black glasses. Childish round cheeks gave away his age but those eyes were older than the rest of him. Hands grasped at his knees, and Clarus saw the telltale red and slight grime of some stinging grazes peeking between little fingers.

The kid was holding his breath, obviously worried about having been found. Clarus looked around surreptitiously before he turned to the kid and asked, in a whisper, “Can I join you?” He was stared at for his question, and then the kid gave a nervous, hurried nod of his head, and Clarus squeezed himself in under the table and sat on the floor next to him, hunching his knees up to adopt the same pose. The floor was hard, and cold, and his ass was going to start issuing its complaints within three minutes, he knew. He also wasn't looking forward to getting back out from under the table with the silly ceremonial robes on; his odds of tripping on the blasted things were going to skyrocket.

“I'm Clarus,” he said. “What's your name?”

“Ignis, sir.” The voice was soft, quiet, and the name rang a bell. Clarus racked his brain for a moment before it provided an answer: Ignis, Aloysius Scientia's nephew, destined future hand to the Crown Prince. They hadn't been formally introduced, yet. Ignis was just a freakishly bright kid with a lot of prospects. He hadn't met the Prince he'd one day serve, yet. Nor had Gladiolus. Yet one day, this boy, just like his own son, would bear the duty of advising and protecting a King, perhaps even at the cost of their own lives.

Clarus smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ignis,” he said.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Ignis replied, achingly polite and with a hint of an accent.

“Good hiding spot you've got here,” he said, hunching in to his knees and praying the sharp pain of cold tile away. “Who're you hiding from?” Ignis curled further into himself, his fingers tightening on his knees until they were white at the tips, and the frown the child wore seemed to cover his whole body. “Wanna know who I'm hiding from?” he asked.

Ignis looked up at him with a piercing green eyed stare that would, Clarus thought, when he was older, get him just as many second looks from girls as Gladiolus was going to draw. It was a disconcerting gaze in a child, though. Too smart, too analytical, too old; Clarus got the impression that cogs whirred in the back of that young mind. Hone it, oil it, set it to the service of the Crown, and of Lucis, and that mind would be as lethal and as vital as any sword. Clarus had never felt like he was being weighed up by a child before. He felt like Ignis knew what he was trying to do with him, but even if Ignis did, it seemed to be working on him.

“There's this guy called Cor,” Clarus said, settling into storymode. “Younger than me,” he said, “but he gives me a hard time. Always trying to beat me at things, always arguing with me. Never lets up.” He turned so he was looking directly at Ignis, and asked, “So who's giving you a hard time?”

“Audax.” The name was spoken in a whisper. “He says I'm just a little baby. That I won't be able to serve the crown if I'm not strong.”

Clarus breathed in through his nose. The name didn't ring any bells, but it wouldn't take much to find out, and get a message to Audax's parents to give him a kick in the pants or have Clarus do it for them. “I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, Ignis,” he said, fixing him with a warm smile. “The crown has plenty of strong men. Women too. Being strong is easy. But smart? That's rarer, and getting smart, and staying smart is harder. And I know you're here because you're smart.”

Ignis swallowed, fixing his eyes down onto his knees, looking to be deep in thought. “But I do need to be strong,” he muttered.

“Strong up here,” Clarus said, and tapped the side of Ignis's head with his finger. “And in here,” he added, tapping his own chest. “But here?” he squeezed a tiny upper arm between his finger and thumb, realising he could easily curls his entire hand around it. “That's not as important for you.”

Ignis looked at him again with those calculating green eyes, and Clarus fixed him with a grin. “My son Gladiolus,” he said, “you'll meet him one day. He'll have this for you,” he said, squeezing Ignis's forearm again, “if you have this for him,” he added, pointing at Ignis's temple once more. “Between you, the Prince will be well protected. If you don't have smarts to back up strength, well,” Clarus gave an awkward shrug, given his position, “strength without smarts is how you get people like Audax, and I wouldn't want someone like that looking after the Prince.”

“Can't you have both?” Ignis asked.

Clarus grinned at the question. “You can,” he agreed, “but there's not many as smart as you, and you don't have to do it all on your own.”

Ignis seemed to consider that before he gave a small nod, looking back down at his knees.

“Now,” Clarus said, “I'm older than you, and as good as this hiding spot is, this floor is making my butt hurt, so shall we get out of here and go and clean you up?”

Ignis bit his lip before he gave a nod, and shifted to crawl out from under the table. Clarus watched him move, noting the muddy scuffs on dark trousers, and the loose button at a cuff. If he'd seen the same on Gladiolus he'd have given him a clip around the ear for ruining his clothes, but on Ignis they were a sign that someone had been picking on the future hand.

He'd have to ask Gladiolus if he knew an Audax when he saw him tonight. Maybe it was time Gladiolus got given his first protection duty.

Clarus crawled out from under the table with less grace than Ignis, and he stretched when he stood, feeling his back and his ass issuing their complaints about doing stupid things like crouching under furniture. “Come on then,” he said, once he was done stretching the ache out. He tried not to draw attention to the self conscious way Ignis was trying to brush dirt off his clothes. “I'll show you how to fix a graze. It'll come in handy once you've met my son, and the Prince,” he added as an afterthought.

Ignis looked up at him, all childish chubby cheeks and sandy brown hair, and gave a small bow as he smiled. Clarus smiled back, and reached down to ruffle that hair. His smile became a grin when Ignis reached up with both of his own hands to try and put his hair straight again, even as he started to follow Clarus towards his office.


End file.
